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‘Um—very comfortable,’ she said, casting another glance at Rafe as she pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘It has a marvellous view of the estuary.’
Rafe watched her through narrowed eyes, wishing the old lady hadn’t put her in his mother’s old room. Wondering, too, what a girl like her would see in a loser like Cary. What had Lady Elinor told him? That she’d already been married and divorced? She didn’t look old enough to have had so much experience of life.
Juliet was aware of him watching her, lids lowered, lashes to die for shading those disturbing dark eyes. What was he thinking? she wondered. Did he assume that like Cary she was only interested in the old lady’s money? For, despite what he’d said to his cousin, she’d seen the expression on Cary’s face when he’d thought Lady Elinor wasn’t looking, and it hadn’t been pleasant.
The silence had gone on too long and Josie, who had evidently been trying again to think of something non-contentious to say, turned appealing eyes to Rafe. ‘Your grandmother’s having a small dinner party on Saturday night. Did she tell you?’
Rafe’s mouth compressed. ‘Now why would she tell me a thing like that?’ he queried drily. ‘I’m not invited, am I?’
‘N—o.’ Josie had to be honest. ‘But the Holdernesses are coming.’
‘Are they?’ He pulled a wry face. ‘The old girl must be pulling out all the stops.’
‘Well, that’s the thing…’
But Josie belatedly seemed to realise she’d gone too far in a guest’s presence and, meeting her troubled eyes, Rafe took his cue and said, ‘Well, don’t worry. I’ll be around if you need me.’
‘Oh, Rafe!’
The words were said with such heartfelt emotion that Juliet realised that, whatever she thought of him, the housekeeper didn’t share her view. In fact, there seemed to be a genuine affection between them and Juliet permitted herself another look in his direction.
Only to encounter his reflective gaze.
She looked away immediately, but not before she’d gained the impression that his opinion of her was no less critical than hers of him. He evidently did think she was some empty-headed bimbo who’d only latched on to Cary because of his expectations.
As if!
Deciding it was up to her to try and change that impression, she forced herself to meet his gaze again and say politely, ‘Cary said something about you being an artist, Mr Marchese. Should I have heard of you?’
‘I believe what he actually said was that I had artsy-craftsy friends,’ murmured Rafe rather maliciously, and heard Josie’s sudden intake of breath.
‘Rafe!’ she exclaimed again, barely audibly, but Juliet wasn’t listening to her.
‘And do you?’ she countered. ‘Have artsy-craftsy friends, I mean?’
Rafe sighed, putting down his empty mug and regarding her tolerantly for once. ‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘That’s just Cary’s way of denigrating anything he doesn’t understand.’
‘Please, Rafe…’
Josie was getting desperate and this time Juliet did hear her. ‘Oh, don’t worry, Mrs Morgan,’ she said, giving the housekeeper a quick smile of reassurance. ‘Mr Marchese doesn’t like me. That’s obvious. Well, that’s OK. I’m not especially fond of him either.’ She finished her tea and set down her cup. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll take a look outside, if that’s permitted?’
When she emerged into the hall again, Cary was just coming down the stairs. Oh, great! she thought. That was all she needed. And the situation wasn’t improved when the door behind her opened again. For some reason, Rafe had chosen to follow her.
Someone—Cary, she assumed—had turned on some lights and the hall didn’t look half as gloomy as it had done when she’d come downstairs. In fact, with what appeared to be a Waterford crystal chandelier picking out the reddish grain in the panelling, a little of its former grandeur had been restored.
The angle of the stairs meant that Cary didn’t immediately notice his cousin. ‘Where’ve you been, Juliet?’ he demanded peevishly. ‘I’ve been looking for you for ages. I went to your room, but you weren’t there. Obviously.’ He waved an impatient hand. ‘What the hell have you been doing?’
If Juliet had hoped that Cary’s words might deter Rafe from interfering, she was mistaken. ‘She’s been having tea in the kitchen, with me and Josie,’ he drawled lazily, stepping into the light. ‘I assume you have no objections?’
‘Like hell!’ Cary had reached the bottom of the stairs and now he looked suspiciously from Juliet to the other man. Then, scowling at his supposed fiancée, ‘How did that come about?’
Juliet sighed. ‘By accident,’ she said tersely, flashing Rafe an exasperated look. ‘I was looking for—for someone to talk to. I thought Josie might be able to tell me a bit more about the house.’
‘So what was he doing?’ Cary cocked his head towards Rafe.
‘I was having tea with Josie, if it’s any business of yours,’ replied Rafe before Juliet could answer. ‘This isn’t your house yet, Cary. I come and go as I please.’
‘Don’t I know it?’ Cary sounded aggrieved. ‘So where’s the old girl? In the conservatory, as usual.’
‘I imagine she’s resting.’ Rafe spoke with evident reluctance. ‘She usually rests in the afternoon, as you’d know if you spent more time at Tregellin.’
Cary didn’t bother answering him. Instead, he placed an arm about Juliet’s shoulders, causing a rather unpleasant shiver to ripple up her spine. He bent his head towards her. ‘How about you and me taking a walk in the grounds?’ he suggested. ‘I’d like to show you around.’
‘Oh—no.’ With some discretion, Juliet managed to ease herself out of Cary’s reach. ‘I—er—I was just thinking of taking a bath.’
She heard Rafe’s disbelieving exhalation of breath and determinedly avoided his gaze. It wasn’t anything to do with him if she chose to change her mind.
‘A bath, eh?’ Was Cary being deliberately provocative? she wondered. ‘Oh, yeah, that sounds like a plan. We could take a bath together, baby. Have you noticed how big the tubs are here? It makes you wonder what the people of Great-Grandmama’s generation used to get up to when Great-Great-Grandpapa used to throw those wild house parties between the wars.’
‘Not what you’re imagining, Cary,’ declared a cool, aristocratic voice from the direction of the morning room. Lady Elinor was standing in the open doorway, the little dog, Hitchins, tucked under her arm. ‘Rafe.’ She nodded towards her other grandson. ‘A minute before you leave, if you please.’
CHAPTER FOUR (#u311e9e0a-db3c-5077-803f-a76d52bde6a7)
JULIET had a bath, but it was a fairly cold one. The only shower was hand-held, and she used it to sluice herself down before stepping out onto the marble floor. Fortunately, she’d laid a towel beside the bath before getting into it. She was already shivering, and imagining bare feet on cold marble didn’t bear thinking about.
There was no hair-drier, but she’d washed her hair that morning, so that didn’t worry her. Nevertheless, she wished she’d brought her own drier with her. She’d been spoiled, she thought. She was used to staying in hotels where every amenity was provided.
Not any longer, of course, she told herself, the spectre of the electricity bill briefly rearing its ugly head. And, however awkward it was for her here, at least it would provide her with enough money to pay it. If she could just ignore Rafe Marchese, it wouldn’t be all that bad.
With the knowledge that Lady Elinor was giving a dinner party for her grandson on Saturday evening, Juliet studied the clothes she’d brought with her rather critically. It wasn’t that she was short of clothes. On the contrary, until David had cancelled her credit cards, shopping had been something she enjoyed. But she hadn’t brought a lot of clothes with her. Cary’s complaint that his grandmother never spent any money hadn’t prepared her for the real situation at Tregellin. Although the old lady might not have a lot of money, she lived in some style. The upkeep of the house alone had to be excessive, but there seemed to be no question of her leaving it and moving to smaller premises.
Which meant Juliet had to save her little black dress until Saturday. It was the most formal thing she’d brought, and when she’d tucked it into her case back in London she’d had real doubts about bringing it. She was glad she had now. Cary would expect his ‘fiancée’ to wear something suitable.
That evening she decided to wear a pair of cropped trousers in aubergine silk, whose low waist exposed a generous wedge of creamy skin. She’d wear a mauve and green patterned top with the trousers, its smock style successfully covering the breach.
It was a little after seven when she went downstairs. Cary had told her before they’d parted in the hall that his grandmother usually had supper at half-past. Although she would have preferred to stay in her room until it was time to eat, that would have been impolite, and, hearing the sound of voices from the drawing room, she headed in that direction.
The housekeeper was on her way out as Juliet entered the room, and after wishing their guest a good evening she hastened on her way. Expecting to find Cary with his grandmother, Juliet was perturbed to find it was just the two of them, though the old lady was graciousness itself as she offered her guest a sherry before the meal.
‘Oh…’ Juliet had never liked sherry, finding it too sweet, usually, but good manners dictated that she accept Lady Elinor’s offer. ‘Thank you.’
‘Perhaps you’d help yourself,’ added the old lady, gesturing with her cane towards the tray on the nearby bureau. ‘I have a little arthritis in my hands and I don’t find it easy lifting the decanter.’
Juliet nodded and went to do as she’d been asked, grateful that she need only pour herself a small amount. ‘My father suffered from arthritis in his hands, too,’ she said, coming to sit on the leather sofa opposite the old lady’s armchair. ‘He used to say it was with holding a pen for so many years.’
Lady Elinor acknowledged this. She was looking particularly elegant this evening in an ankle-length black skirt and a cream silk blouse. Once again, a shawl was draped about her shoulders, a Paisley pattern this time in autumn shades.
‘Your mother died before your father, didn’t she?’ she remarked, and Juliet conceded that this was so.
‘She died just after I was born. My father was devastated, as you can imagine.’
‘Of course.’ Her hostess absorbed this. ‘And your father was considerably older than your mother, I believe,’ she went on, startling Juliet by her knowledge. ‘But at least he had you. You must have been very close.’
‘Yes, we were.’ Juliet felt a twinge of the distress she’d suffered when her father had died. Then, frowning, ‘Did you know my father, Lady Elinor?’
‘No.’ The old lady shook her head. ‘But I remember my son and his wife talking about Cary’s friendship with Maxwell Lawrence’s daughter. And I know Cary was dismayed when I removed him from all the friends he’d had in the village.’
Juliet took a tentative sip of her sherry and found it wasn’t as sweet as she’d anticipated. ‘That seems such a long time ago.’
‘Well, of course, it is.’ Lady Elinor sighed. ‘It’s easier to look back when you’re my age.’ She paused. ‘But you married someone else. Cary attended your wedding. Did you realise you’d married the wrong man?’
Juliet pulled a wry face. ‘You could say that.’
‘You’d prefer not to talk about it?’
‘No.’ Juliet bit her lip. ‘It was just a stupid mistake, that’s all. David never loved me. As Cary probably told you, he was only interested in my money.’
Lady Elinor’s brows drew together. ‘And your father didn’t insist that he sign some kind of agreement before you became his wife?’
‘My father died a year before I met David,’ explained Juliet ruefully. ‘And as I say, I believed him when he said that money didn’t matter to him.’
‘Money always matters,’ declared the old lady firmly. ‘Except perhaps to someone like Rafe.’ She paused. ‘You’ve met Rafe, haven’t you? He’s my daughter Christina’s son. Unfortunately she was never married to his father.’
‘Ah.’ Juliet pressed her lips together for a moment. ‘May I ask what you meant when you said Rafe wasn’t interested in money?’
It was a personal question, but happily the old lady didn’t appear to take offence. ‘Perhaps I should amend that to my money,’ she said, with a wry smile. ‘He does extremely well without it. The small gallery he’s just opened in Polgellin Bay has proved quite a success.’
Juliet’s eyes widened. ‘So he is a painter?’
‘He paints,’ agreed Lady Elinor consideringly. ‘He also teaches art at a comprehensive school in Bodmin.’
‘Really?’ Juliet realised Rafe had been deliberately vague on the subject. ‘How interesting!’
‘You think so?’ The old lady sounded as if she had her doubts. ‘His mother broke my heart with her—reckless disregard for propriety. She painted, too, and look what happened to her.’
‘Cary said she—fell from the balcony of an hotel.’
‘Well, that’s the official story, anyway.’
Juliet stared at her. ‘It’s not true?’
Lady Elinor smiled a little drily. ‘Ah, that would be telling, wouldn’t it, Miss Lawrence? Why don’t you tell me how you and Cary came to meet again? It seems such a coincidence. Do you visit the casino, by any chance?’
‘The casino?’ Juliet was taken aback.
‘Yes. That is where my grandson works, isn’t it?’ She pulled a wry face. ‘I can’t imagine how he persuaded them to employ him after the fiasco he was involved in in South Africa. You know about that, I suppose?’
‘Well, yes.’
Juliet didn’t know what else to say and for once she was relieved to hear heavy footsteps crossing the hall. A moment later Cary appeared in the doorway, somewhat overdressed in satin-seamed black trousers and a dark red dinner jacket.
He came into the room with a slight swagger, as if he expected to be complimented on his appearance. But all Lady Elinor did was raise her dark eyebrows at him. And when Hitchins, who had been asleep in his basket at her feet, awoke and started growling, she bent and lifted the little animal onto her lap.
‘Grandmama.’ Cary greeted her politely, gave the dog a less-friendly look and then came to seat himself beside Juliet. ‘You’re looking delectable this evening,’ he said, bestowing an unwelcome kiss on her neck just below her ear. ‘Hmm, and you smell delectable, too. Is it Chanel?’
‘No.’ Juliet refrained from saying that it was a simple herbal essence that wasn’t half as expensive. ‘Your grandmother and I have been waiting for you.’
‘Sorry.’ Cary would have kissed her again, but Juliet managed to avoid it. ‘If I’d known you were missing me, I’d have been much quicker, believe me.’
‘She didn’t say she’d been missing you, Cary,’ observed the old lady a little maliciously. ‘As a matter of fact, Juliet and I have been having a very interesting conversation.’
‘You have?’ Cary looked a little uneasy now.
‘Yes.’ His grandmother smiled her satisfaction. ‘She was just about to tell me where the two of you renewed your acquaintance.’
Juliet sighed, aware that Cary had stiffened beside her. This was an eventuality they hadn’t covered, though she realised in hindsight it had been foolish not to do so. ‘We—er—we met at the home of mutual friends,’ she lied, the glance she cast in Cary’s direction warning him not to contradict her. ‘It was the Bainbridges, Cary, wasn’t it? John and Deborah. We’ve both known them for years.’
‘Yes, the Bainbridges,’ agreed Cary gratefully, but Juliet, hearing the falseness in his tone, could well understand why Lady Elinor had chosen to investigate his employment for herself. It was to be hoped the old lady wasn’t a friend of the Bainbridges, too. Debbie would be most confused to hear that Juliet was planning on getting married again without telling her. Not to mention meeting her future fiancé at her house.
‘And that was when?’
The old lady wasn’t finished yet and this time Cary intervened. ‘Oh—it must be over six months ago!’ he exclaimed expansively, inspiring a silent groan from Juliet.
‘Over six months?’ queried his grandmother at once, as Juliet had known she would. ‘So why haven’t I heard anything about it? When you were down—let me see, six weeks ago—you made no mention of the fact that you were thinking of getting engaged, Cary.’
Cary looked blank-faced now and Juliet knew that, once again, she’d have to come to his rescue. ‘That was my fault, Lady Elinor,’ she lied, hoping her smile would hide her blushes. ‘I’m afraid I asked Cary to keep our relationship to himself. With it being such a comparatively short time since my divorce, I didn’t want anyone to think I was rushing into marriage again.’
The older woman’s lips thinned. ‘Even though you are,’ she commented drily, and Juliet gave a rueful shrug. But, fortunately, Josie returned at that moment to say that supper was ready and Cary got gratefully to his feet.
The rest of the evening progressed without further embarrassment. Juliet couldn’t decide whether Lady Elinor had been satisfied with the answers they’d given her or merely biding her time until morning. Whatever, the meal—roast beef and Yorkshire pudding with a fruit compote for dessert—passed without incident, and afterwards Juliet had the perfect excuse to retire early.
‘It’s been a very long day,’ she said, when Cary chose to question her departure, and, meeting her narrowed gaze, he evidently decided not to push his luck.
‘Yeah, you get a good night’s rest,’ he said, catching her hand as she passed him and raising it to his lips. ‘I’ll see you in the morning, darling. Sleep well.’
In fact, Juliet slept only fitfully. Although the bed was comfortable, it was a strange bed, and the knowledge that there were still three more days to go weighed heavily on her mind. After tossing and turning for hours she eventually rose just as the sky was lightening, padding barefoot across to the windows and peering out.
The view was calming. Sunrise on the estuary, and the mudflats were a veritable hive of activity. She’d never seen so many birds in one place before, cackling and squawking as they vied with one another for the grubs the receding tide had left behind.
It looked as if it was going to be a fine day. The clouds, such as they were, were thinning, and a delicate haze was lifting to reveal a pale blue horizon. Juliet knew a sudden urge to be outside, far from another round of interrogation. For no matter how amiable Lady Elinor had been the night before, she was fairly sure her curiosity hadn’t been totally assuaged.
In the bathroom, the hand shower ran lukewarm, but it was better than nothing. Chilled, but refreshed, Juliet dressed in jeans and a V-necked olive-green sweater, pulled on Converse boots, and left her room.
As on the night before, there seemed to be no one about, which wasn’t really surprising. It was barely seven o’clock. Much too early for Lady Elinor to want breakfast.
The kitchen was chilly. The Aga, which had evidently kept the place warm the afternoon before, was cold now and blinds still covered the windows. Juliet opened the blinds and, locating the kettle, set it to boil. If she could just find a jar of instant coffee, she thought, she’d be happy.
She found what she was looking for in the third cupboard she opened, and by then the kettle was boiling. She put two teaspoons of coffee in a mug and then filled it with hot water. Then she turned to a rather elderly fridge, looking for milk.
